boo

Normally, I don’t go through the process of getting a costume for Halloween. When we were little (after a few years of trick-or-treating under our belts), my parents bribed us out of the typical shenanigans with something along the lines of “If you’ll agree to not dressing up and dragging us around the neighborhood, we’ll buy you each a huge bag of candy of your choice.” It worked out well for both parties, and I have lovely memories of those times. But this year, I made a costume for work,  mostly in an attempt to avoid being the only one who didn’t dress up.

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Can you guess what I chose, yet?

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That’s right, I was a piñata! Yay! Thanks to this lovely blogger for the inspiration & tutorial, and my coworker Rae for doing my makeup (as you can see in the second photo). It was lots of fun, and I couldn’t have done it alone.

Happy first-day-of-November, everyone. I hope your yesterday was full of tricks and treats and lots of candy.

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it is well

Happy Easter, friends of the blogosphere.

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Here is my prayer for you, and for me, on this holy day (and every day):

That you would find yourself opened up, bare and raw and exposed to the realities of this world. That you may know, with the deepest clarity and pain, just how broken and full of sin you are. That in that brokenness, you would experience the truth of Jesus Christ’s death and His glorious RESURRECTION, and feel wonder in the knowledge that He has made a way out of death for you. That you would be overwhelmed by his love and his sacrifice, and that you would live out the rest of your day with the assurance that, now, all is well.

It Is Well With My Soul

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:
It is well, (it is well),
With my soul, (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.